


Til We Meet Again

by Samatura



Category: overwatch
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-16
Updated: 2018-01-16
Packaged: 2019-03-05 13:15:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13388583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Samatura/pseuds/Samatura
Summary: Hanzo Shimada and Jesse McCree have crossed paths three times in their lives, each very different from the last.//My part for the To Ashes McHanzo Zine. Originally  three chapters were going to be published, but due to length, only the first chapter was able to be posted in the zine. Here I will be sharing all three.//





	1. Beginnings

Hanamura was a beautiful city, a perfect median of traditional Japan and the infrastructure of the modern era. Bustling streets and neon lights lived alongside ancient fences and hand-carved architecture, cherry blossom trees showering onto loose cobblestone paths that met up with busy highways. Massive skyscrapers glittered immaculately just beyond scenic mountain views, neighbored by classic castles, the apex of old meets new. 

Japan had been successful as omnics had joined the workforce, workers that required no sleep and were easily exploitable with little to no legal rights, and funded a massive metropolis. The money that flooded into the country’s economy had begun to run dry as omnics began to fight for their rights, and in recent years the populus had struggled to find alternative means of income, turning to the black market in order to survive. In the wake of the depression, gangs had sprung up, old nobility dipping their hands into illegal dealings where money was mad, and building up massive empires that spread not only through Japan, but across the globe. 

It was this underground economy that brought Jesse McCree, along with a select group of other Deadlock rebels, to the historic city. They had flown for eight hours on an economy-class hyperplane only to be immediately ushered into a car by a representative of their contact and delivered at a hotel that was far nicer than any Jesse had ever set foot in. There they had changed from their leathers and gang colors into finely pressed, though still cheap suits, to wait for the sleek black car that picked them up. An omnic driver with a faceplate like an ancient Japanese warrior’s mask opened and closed their doors for them before he pulled away towards Shimada Castle, a clear display of hospitality as much as dominance. The Deadlocks were a big name in New Mexico and the southwestern United States, but they had yet to go global. The higher ups were hoping that a business agreement with the lofty Shimada Clan in Hanamura would be what they needed to become an international powerhouse in the illegal arms dealing market. The negotiations had been set to take place in Hanamura, the base of the Shimada Clan’s operations, with a small group of Deadlock representatives assigned to complete negotiations in a week’s time. 

McCree wasn’t a fan of the theatrics that big trade deals required. He would have much preferred to simply schedule a face-to-face meeting, power through negotiations, shake on it, and be on his way. The man had great disdain for the false smiles and compliments, the suits and ties and big-wig dinner meetings, the fancy cars picking them up to usher them about like school children. It was maddening, irritating, and downright showboating. Jesse was sure he would have liked the scenic views of the lofty castles and beautiful cherry blossom covered roads that passed by the car window under any other circumstance. Yet now the beauty was soiled, ruined by the fact he’d been forced to take off his hat, earrings, belt buckle, and all other personal effects, leather chaps discarded on the floor of the hotel room to be replaced by black dress pants that were far too constricting. He had barely managed to convince Tex, the leader of their small party, to let him wear his cowboy boots, which he had agreed upon so long as he took off the spurs - a compromise McCree had only begrudgingly agreed to. His bandana had been folded neatly and stuffed into his suit pocket, a flash of color on the otherwise unicolored outfit.

He listened to the chatter of his teammates, some gruff and irritated, others more cheery, excited at the prospect of this exotic and foreign new land. McCree wasn’t big on leaving the States. He was content in his small corner off the Southwest; the familiarity of the Santa Fe sun and soil was all he needed. A simple life for a simple man. Jesse was young, only seventeen years old, but gang life had forced his maturity, shedding his adolescence for the spoils that came from a life of crime. He’d always seen the Deadlocks ride past the trailer park like a pack of wolves, steel horses thundering as they rode glittering motorcycles, hooting and hollering, the epitome of cool. The Deadlocks were the closest to the old western movies his grandfather had played on the holovid, all sex appeal and grisly badassery. They were real badass motherfuckers, every boys dream. Bikes, guns, booze and money are very appealing to a poor boy living in a trailer park in the New Mexico desert. He had dropped his old life at the age of fourteen to run with the Deadlocks. The glamour had started to fade as he’d moved up in the ranks, but he was addicted to it at this point. Jesse McCree was a young punk trying to make a name for himself in a world that found him useful yet expendable, nothing more. 

He didn’t bother to join the small talk, tuning out the low conversations in favor of taking in the scenery. The city was beautiful, certainly, seemingly lost in time, a bygone era living peacefully onward. A woman and an omnic dressed in long pastel kimono chattered happily on the cobblestone sidewalk, twirling umbrellas in their hands. Shops glittered with neon lights, street peddlers selling their wares. The air was crisp and the cherry blossom trees swayed in the wind, ever weeping their soft pink petals onto the ground. “Genetically enhanced,” the representative at the airport had told him with a fake smile, “bred to bloom year-round.” A beautiful lie, just like the rest of the city, he mused to himself. It tried its best to maintain an air of unassuming grace, but McCree saw right through the façade. He could make out the familiar shape of people in the alleyways, making exchanges, then parting as though nothing had happened, fish venders with long tattoos peeking from the wrists of their sleeves, a dirt covered boy in tattered clothes holding a cup, quietly begging for change. Some things were the same in every part of the world, he thought passively, poor people everywhere just trying to get by.  
His silent ponderings came to an end when the car rolled to a stop in a dead end, suddenly aware of the massive wooden walls that had replaced the nearby buildings. A welcome party seemed to be set out, a beautiful well-dressed woman in a long dress stood as still as stone with a group of men in suits standing on either side, smile painted on her lips. The Deadlocks straightened at once, Tex whispering words of encouragement as they attempted to be presentable. Once again, the omnic driver stepped out and opened the door for them, and again Jesse resented it, but tipped his hat good-naturedly. If the omnic appreciated it, he gave no sign.  
Once they stepped out of the car, McCree was painfully aware of how small they were, boxed in by the high walls. Two dragons were carved into the walls behind the welcome party, chasing after each other in a perfect circle. More theatrics.

“Pretentious bullshit,” Jesse muttered to himself before the woman stepped towards them and he quickly plastered on his most charming smile.

 

“Gentlemen,” the woman said in a voice that was soft and warm as she gave a gentle bow, “Welcome to Hanamura. I hope your trip was a comfortable one.”  
“Reckon it was, sweetheart,” Tex spoke up, stepping forward and returning the bow. Jesse was glad he was the leader on this trip. He didn’t know if he could stomach this level of horseshit and backhanded compliments. But the way Tex handled it all, cool cowboy saddling up with a smile and a wink, made it seem all too easy. It was inspirational. “Y’all made the trip mighty nice for us.” 

 

The woman nodded quickly. “Of course. It is simply the courteous thing to do. You are our guests after all.”  
“Yes indeed,” Tex agreed, “We got here fast as we could. We’re eager to start trade negotiations as soon as possible-”  
“There is time for that,” the woman interrupted, smiling apologetically though her smile did not reach her eyes, “For now, we would like to give you a tour of the grounds, and then later the master of the grounds will meet with your main spokesman to discuss business. I hope that is acceptable.”  
A murmur went up between the other Deadlock members, eyeing each other up incredulously. The man in charge wasn’t even there to greet them. A ballsy move, another display of dominance with a clear message. They were on Shimada time, not the other way around.  
But Tex only nodded, smiling graciously. “Well then, we’ll gladly accept your hospitality. Lead the way, ma’am.” 

Tex’s answer seemed to be the right one, because the woman’s smile grew, and she gave a sweeping gesture to the huge wooden gate behind her. “Gentlemen,” she said, bowing low once more, “Welcome to Shimada Castle.” 

The great door gave a loud groan of protest as it was opened, massive walls sliding to reveal what they hid from prying eyes. Jesse felt his eyes widen in spite of himself, lips parting in surprise as Shimada Castle came into view. If Hanamura was the median of past and present, the castle was like stepping back in time. Cherry blossom trees hung low around ancient architecture, sand gardens bridging the gap between buildings with large stones strategically placed. Music played softly in the distance, though he couldn’t see where it came from, some twangy strings that whispered familiarity of home but still foreign as the rest of this land. Yet another welcoming party stood in the center of one of the nearby buildings, unfazed by the fantasy in which they stood.  
One of his teammates whistled low and appreciatively, and Jesse agreed wholeheartedly as they all made their way inside the gates. One of the suited men in the first welcoming party ushered them along the path to the next building, and McCree absently nodded his thanks, still eyeing up the amazing scenery, catching a glimpse of even more castles in the distance. They were led through a beautiful courtyard into a huge hall, sweeping ceilings dimly lit. A lone scroll of calligraphy sat in the center, and Jesse looked up to see a massive mural of two dragons, one green, one blue, locked in a swirling embrace. The whole thing felt like a scene from a movie, a perfect fantasy hidden away behind closed doors. It was surreal, unlike anything he had ever seen.  
“The meeting room is just past here.” Their guide’s voice brought Jesse back down to earth, ripping him from the fantasy with a soft yet firm tone. He glanced over to see her gesturing to a doorway past the scroll, ushering along Tex. “My superior has requested that only your top man be involved in the negotiations for privacy reasons, is that correct?”

Tex nodded assuredly, stepping forward. “That’s mighty fine. But what exactly are my companions here meant to do while we discuss?”

 

The woman offered a tight lipped smile, gesturing to the entrance whence they’d come. “They are free to wander the courtyard and surrounding gardens as they see fit. Shimada Castle is under constant surveillance, so they will be escorted from any private areas and returned back here once the negotiations are complete.”

A murmur passed through the Deadlock members as they glanced at each other. To let them wander around the castle unattended was a bold move, but a show of power all the same. ‘Constant surveillance,’ Jesse mused. There were men in suits stationed periodically around the complex, and no telling how many cameras were hidden, recording their every move. It was a polite way of telling them they were being watched, a gentle threat to dare to try something. 

But Tex only nodded again, running a hand through his greasy hair. “You heard the lady, gents. Take a gander around, enjoy the sites. I’ll see y’all in a bit.”

The woman bowed to the group once more before turning, Tex following close behind up a small flight of stairs until the two rounded a corner and disappeared from sight.  
The remaining gang members exchanged small talk and basic conversation before deciding it really would be best to split up and explore. It was the chance of a lifetime, and they could potentially gather valuable intel. Plus, after being openly invited to enjoy the complex, it would be extremely disrespectful not to. So after a few minutes of deliberation they broke up and Jesse McCree wandered off on his own.  
He took the route to the east of the great hall, wandering across bridges and beneath ancient pathways, through cobblestone twists and turns. Occasionally he would pass someone, like a group of servants or one of the many suited men. They would bow politely in passing, and he would reach to tip his hat, only to realise it wasn’t there and card his hand through his hair instead, nodding quickly.  
He lost himself in thought as he walked, cherry blossom petals falling and getting trapped in the wiry locks of his dark hair, a splash of color like the bandana stuffed in his pocket. Up, up, up he went, taking flight after flight of stone steps, from one level, across platforms, to the next level, mindlessly wandering. It was rare he was given the opportunity to simply explore. Despite the promise of freedom he had joined for, Deadlock kept its members on tight leashes. Time fell away as he walked, mind on nothing and everything at once. His drifter blood kept him going, wandering without a care until he reached the final steps, stopping short when he realized he had made it to the top of a tower, and could see the entire expanse of Shimada Castle and the surrounding city.

It was as breathtaking as it had been when the gates had opened, but magnified by a thousand. The castle was bright, pinks and greens a stark contrast from the urbanization of the city just outside its walls. It was as beautiful as the sunrise in the desert, the view of New Mexico that had made him fall for the drifter’s life in the first place, he thought with a smile. So different from where he was from, and yet, just the same. Little similarities drawing him in and making him fall in love with the sight. 

“Just like home.” He sighed contentedly, drinking in the view.  
“Is that so?” A voice came from behind him, ripping him from his revelry. He whipped around, instinctively reaching towards his belt for a pistol that wasn’t there, flustered, before stopping short. 

The man who stood there put the view to shame, and Jesse burned the sight into his mind. His dark eyes bored into McCree’s, striking as his proud features. Strong jaw, sharp nose, amused smirk, brow cocked in amusement. Long hair that spilled over his shoulders, framing his regal face. Arms folded over his chest, loose clothing hanging in beautiful blues from his arms and down his body. Masculine, powerful, radiating strength. In his short life, McCree had never seen any real person so stunning, and he doubted he ever would again. 

A beat passed, and the man chuckled, cocking his head. “Do you not speak English? I had thought that was the language of America.”  
Again McCree was ripped back to reality, but this time he was prepared, regaining his composure quickly. “Oh I speak English fine, thank ya kindly.”  
The beautiful stranger smiled approvingly, though it looked more coy than anything else. “Well isn’t that fortunate. You are a member of the Deadlock negotiations party, are you not?”  
McCree nodded, shooting back a grin of his own. “Sure am. What gave it away?”  
The man chuckled, eyes warming. The sound was beautiful, rolling like brass, and sent chills down McCree’s spine. “I have been summoned to return you to the hall. Negotiations have been completed, so your visit to Shimada Castle is coming to an end.”  
At this Jesse straightened, face screwing up in confusion. “Already? They finished negotiations that fast?”  
A hesitation as the man raised an eyebrow, measuring his words before responding. “It has been well over two hours. There was not much to discuss. Agreements have been made, and it is time for you to return to America.” 

 

McCree recoiled in surprise. Over two hours? He really had lost track of time. But he didn’t have long to muse over it, as the stranger began to turn away, motioning for him to follow. “Shall we go? It is best we don’t leave your companions waiting.”  
“Ah, right,” Jesse said quickly, and gave one last look out over the city, the castle, the perfect fantasy of Hanamura, before following behind the stranger.  
The two walked in silence for a good part of the journey back to the gate, though Jesse was consumed by his thought. Specifically on the beautiful stranger, the way he walked like a god among men, the way his hair fluttered softly in the gentle breeze. Every time they passed someone, they would bow deeply, much more than they had when McCree had been on his own, and the man would wave them off politely but dismissively. Jesse wanted to ask why, but was in no rush to cause an issue on his way out of the palace. So instead he decided silence was best and walked quietly, enjoying the scenery and the sway of the perfect stranger’s hips.  
The silence was broken just as the top of the great hall came into view, the stranger turning to him with a look of serious concentration on his face. “You never gave me an answer,” he said sharply.  
McCree cocked a brow, tilting his head in confusion. “Uh. Come again?”

 

“I asked you how Hanamura was just like your home, like you said up on the tower.”  
Realization hit him and he laughed, nodding. “Oh yeah, suppose you did, huh? Well, it ain’t anything serious. Just…”  
“Tell me,” the man asked, voice softer this time.  
“Well,” McCree hesitated a moment before locking eyes with the man, “It’s just a feeling. A feeling of lookin’ around and seein’ what true beauty is. Bein’ alone, hidden away from all life’s problems, and just enjoying what you see. It feels like you got the whole world at your fingertips, like nothin’ matters but you and the view. I’ve only ever felt like that in two places, and that’s Hanamura and back home.”  
The man seemed to consider his words before offering up a warm smile. “That sounds like a wonderful feeling. To know true beauty.”

 

McCree saw the opportunity and took it, smiling slyly. “Well I coulda told you a thing or two about true beauty after seein’ your face, darlin’.”  
The man scoffed, then snorted, then broke out into a laugh once more, that same brassy sound that had given Jesse chills earlier, and did so again. He wanted to say something more, to hear that rich voice and that ringing laugh, but the two had reached the entrance to the hall. He could see his teammates gathered in the center and felt his heart grow heavy, disappointed he didn’t have more time. When his eyes met the strangers, he could see a disappointment reflecting his own painted on his features.  
“Here you are. I hope you enjoyed your visit to Shimada Castle, Mister…” His voice trailed off.  
“McCree. Jesse McCree.” He smiled weakly.  
“Jesse McCree,” the man repeated, and Jesse felt a spark shoot down his spine at the sound of his name on the other’s voice. 

“Aye Jesse! You ready yet?” a voice called, breaking the two from the other’s gaze.  
“You should be going,” the man said quickly, turning away. “I hope you have a safe journey home.” He quickly moved to walk past Jesse, but the gunslinger moved, grabbing his arm gently. Their eyes locked, burning for a moment where time stopped and all that existed was the two of them.

“Wait, what about you? What’s your name?” he asked in a low voice, heart beating wildly in his chest.  
There was a moment of silence before the stranger pulled himself from McCree’s grip, taking a step back, steadying himself. He opened his mouth, thought better of it, hesitated, before finally he spoke.  
“Hanzo,” he said, voice barely above a low whisper. His eyes lost their fire, and for a moment he looked pained before turning away, muttering, “Remember this moment, Jesse McCree. Do not forget the beauty you found here.” 

And with that, Hanzo darted off. 

“I won’t,” Jesse whispered roughly, heart full of longing as he stood for a moment, head a whirlwind of emotion, before he shook his head, sighed, and headed back towards his companions in the center of the great hall to begin the journey home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This piece was written for the To Ashes McHanzo Zine, though only this first chapter ended up being published in it. If you want more info on the zine, visit the dedicated To Ashes blog at https://toashesfanzine.tumblr.com/
> 
> Thanks so much for reading y'all, it really means the world to me. Hope you enjoyed!  
> -Samatura
> 
> http://sake-and-whiskey.tumblr.com/  
> http://samatura.tumblr.com/


	2. Endings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Blood and heavy violence at the beginning of the chapter, very emotionally dark

Blood. 

That was all Hanzo could register for a moment; The sound of drops hitting the tatami floors, the burning metal smell, the sticky heaviness of it that clung to his body. He could not hear his own shallow breaths or how they shook, could not hear the pounding of his heart in his throat. His vision was painted in the dark red that covered the room, every surface splattered and stained. All that registered was blood. 

His mind was empty, body as heavy as the sword he held in his hands. He thought of nothing, brain clawing to regain some semblance of consciousness, of what had just occurred, to piece together the events of the last half hour that had forced out all thought, all logic, and been fueled by rage. His body burned as the adrenaline in his system finally slowed and died down, leaving him an empty husk standing in the center of the great hall.  
The thoughts returned with his senses, slowly creeping up on him in the company of the soreness of his muscles, the sting of the injuries he had received, the sharp taste of blood on his tongue. And along with the acrid taste of metal, a cool saltiness joined it. Tears, he realized absently. But dragons do not cry over death they cause, he chided himself, a lesson he had learned from his father so long ago.

The memory was all it took. Death. Death they cause. Suddenly his mind was shocked awake, a thousand sensations rushing back to him. Agony tore through him like lightning, making his knees buckle and give way, and he sunk to the floor. Screams echoed in his ears, a panicked voice crying out for mercy in rushed Japanese, and the pain that followed. It had happened so fast, had gotten so out of hand in the blink of an eye as years of resentment had reached an apex and shattered. A fight, swords drawn, blades clashing in the low light of the great hall, each tearing into the other, blood everywhere. A victor, finally, after minutes that felt like hours, as Hanzo had finished it, silencing the cries for forgiveness he had no desire to hear. His head was swimming as it all registered in his mind, putting events in order as best he could, until finally it all fell into place just as his eyes fell on the shape that lay still on the other side of the room. 

Genji. 

Everything came crashing down in an instant. The sounds of blood, the pain in his body the sound of his heart beat in his ears. Everything gave way, crumbling all at once. Hanzo started running before he realized it, sword clattering to the ground as he scrambled across the tatami mats. His shoes slid across the blood soaked surface and he stumbled, frantically clawing for balance as he crossed the great hall and fell to his knees at his brother’s side. His proud features were marred in deep slashes, robes tattered and torn, stained deep red. The details became blurry as Hanzo’s eyes welled in tears, frantically drawing his brother into his arms, checking for a pulse, for breath, for anything. All he felt was a cold heavy weight.

He screamed, tried to say his name, to call for help, to pray, but the words came out distorted, more like gaping sounds than real Japanese. Hanzo didn’t care. He sobbed, body heaving as he clutched his brother to his chest, screaming until his voice burned. The world around him was gone, and all that existed was this moment that he forced himself to remember, to detail the pain, the agony. A fire burned within his body, crawling beneath his skin until it bubbled to the surface, glowing an electric blue. His screams were joined by a roaring like thunder, and the great hall was lit up in a flash of divine light, until it consumed the lone wolf, the sole brother who held the weight of the world in his arms.

~~~

The transporter was dark, lit only in the dim red light of the warning signs and the holovids playing emergency broadcasts across the walls. Hanamura was in a state of disarray, omnic rebellions in the area clashing with organized crime syndicates. The Japanese government had requested Overwatch intervention, but had wanted it as discreetly as possible. Intel had reported that was because local governments had begun accepting financial compensation from the gangs to fund the country’s defense against the omics in exchange for a lack of investigation into their own illegal affairs, an issue Overwatch didn’t have the resources or urgency to currently resolve. So instead, the case had been assigned to Blackwatch.

More specifically, it had been assigned to Jesse McCree.

McCree leaned back against the cold steel of the transport, hat tipped down over his face as he listened to the rough voice of his commander relaying his mission. It was a rescue mission, with the target being a extremely high profile member of one of the crime clans in the area. He was to use the chaos of the omnic activity to get into Hanamura castle, collect the target, and dip out without drawing suspicion to Blackwatch. Intel suggested that their target had been compromised by the clan, and that he could used as a valuable resource to Overwatch in their efforts to tear down the crime rings that had taken over Japan in the wake of the crisis. 

The soldier was relaxed, comfortable in the cold confines of the transporter. He had run missions like this hundreds of time. Dip in, dip out. Drop anyone who got in your way. A simple objective. Reyes relayed a few words of confidence towards the end, husky voice soothing as the tobacco on his tongue. Just another operation, nothing Jesse couldn’t handle. 

The transporter pitched as it made its descent, lowering to street level a few blocks from the castle. Reyes had picked tonight for the mission because the omnic insurgencies had become increasingly active, and intel had shown that tonight they were on the move. The yakuza would be on high alert already, but their men would be focused on the omnic troops on at their gates. They would be careless and leave holes in their defenses to build up offense. And that was where McCree would make his move.  
With one final puff of his cigar, Jesse pushed himself to his feet, holding his hat to his head as the transporter door slid open and wind whipped through the metal hull. “Let’s get a move on,” He muttered to himself, dropping the spent cigar to grind it into grated floor with his heeled boot. A small smile toyed his face, a glint in his eye, and he was off, driven by the fire of a soldier going into battle. He was a professional, but this was what he lived for.  
By passing the security was relatively easy, with Reyes and a few of the other Blackwatch ops back at base shutting off cameras and opening doors everywhere he went. Every now and again a group of men in suits would run by, shouting at each other angrily as they reloaded weapons, swearing in Japanese, but Jesse would roll out of the way or fade into the darkness easily. A woman with a rough voice harshly whispered directions in his ear, but he had a decent idea where he was headed.  
He had been here once before. 

It hadn’t changed at all since the last time he had come to Hanamura, though the urban buildings had drawn so close they were now neighbored against the great gate he had entered through so many years ago. But Shimada Castle still radiated brilliance and wonder, despite the fantasy being tarnished by his lack of childish adoration for money and power. The Shimadas were the same as the Deadlocks had been; power hungry people trying to be better than all the rest. Still, he couldn’t hate them. They were just people at the end of the day, and the tattoo on his arm served as a reminder of the youthful ambitions of his past, the winged skull whispering never to forget where he had come from.  
Because at the end of the day, the only difference between what he had done then and what he did now was one lifestyle had a global stamp of approval, a seal made in blood.  
“Jesse,” came Reyes’ voice over his communicator, horse and demanding. “Up ahead are the stairs to the west tower. Intel says that’s where the body is being kept. There’s a lot of steps, so hopefully you’ve been hitting the climbers like I told you.”

McCree scoffed, shaking his head. “I got it Jeffe, don’t worry about me.”

“Good. Now make sure you keep an eye out. This area doesn’t look to be particularly guarded but it is closed off to most of the castle, so be ready in a case of any lone-”

Gabriel’s voice was cut off as a weight slammed into Jesse, throwing the world into a spin. He stifled a yelp, using his falling momentum to duck into a roll. He tumbled across the floor, righting himself quickly by flipping into a with his gun at the ready. But the man was already on him, a towering presence. In the low light that streamed through the thin paper walls he could make out the figure before him; a heavily muscled man, hair tied back into a tight knot on his head, and the glint of a long sword in his hand, blade pointed so it rested just above Jesse’s throat. 

There was a beat in which nothing moved, the two men simply staring at each other. His large gun never wavered, the piercing red sight cutting through the night to paint a light dot on the center of the man’s forehead. A stand off. McCree had been in his share before, especially back in his Deadlock days. The only way to end it was to talk your way out, or make the first move. 

“Well, howdy,” He offered, lips curling into a smile. “Come here often?”

“Drop your weapon,” the other hissed. “I will not hesitate to slit your throat.”  
“You drop yours, sweetheart. Cuz from where I’m sittin’, I could just as easily blow your skull open on my way down.” McCree shot back.  
The man with the sword said nothing, eyes cold in the low light as they gave him a once over. His gaze stopped on McCree’s exposed forearm, face screwing up in a mix of disgust and confusion. “Deadlock?” He muttered, his voice low and rough, enough to send a chill down Jesse’s spine. “Are they the one’s behind this raid? That is a bold move for some desert trash from America.”  
Jesse raised a brow in confusion at his words before realization hit, and he shook his head quickly. “No, no, nothin’ like that.” Damn, he knew the tattoo was a liability, but old pride was hard to bury. Gabe had told him a thousand times to get rid of the tattoo and the gaudy belt buckle, but he had brushed it off. He’d never hear the end of it if this got back to Headquarters, and the Shimada or the Japanese government caught wind of Blackwatch interference. “Old tattoo, new job. Private contractor, hired gun, just business, money to be made. You understand.” He lied smoothly, shrugging noncelauntly. Better to cover his tracks a little in the unlikely event one of them were to make it out of this exchange alive.

The man scoffed at him, pressing the blade closer so the tip met Jesse’s throat, cold metal meeting burning skin. He felt the sting as it dipped into his flesh, just enough to draw blood. His trigger finger itched, but he knew better. “Private contractor, was it? During an omnic raid of my family’s estate? Unlikely, given that omnics do not work with our kind. So that means someone else sent you to use the raid as cover, is that correct?” 

McCree said nothing, and the man’s eyes narrowed. “And given the fact that Overwatch tore Deadlock to the ground, it must be someone else. So I ask you, who are you? If you really were just a hired gun you would be in the battle like the rest of the foot soldiers, but instead you are sneaking around my family’s personal side of the estate. Do not waste my time with your lies, or I will not hesitate to tear out your throat. I have done far worse.”

There was an edge to the man’s voice, unstable and violent. Jesse didn't doubt his claims, and though he wasn't one to share vital information, he also wasn't ready to lose his vocal chords on this mission.  
With a sigh, he slowly raised his hands, gun lifting from the other man's face. The man made a grunt of approval but did not move, instead only lessening the pressure of the sword at Jesse’s neck. 

“I'm here on a private contract mission, like I said before. Hired gun. That was the truth,” he said smoothly. Well, it wasn't entirely a lie at least, he mused silently as he tried to read the other man's face, a mask of cold anger, tension just beneath a smooth surface waiting to burst.  
“What is your name?” The man pressed, staring down at where Jesse kneeled.  
McCree swallowed hard, putting on his best smile. “Tell me yours, I’ll tell you mine.”  
The Shimada scoffed, raising an eyebrow. “Just because you have said you are a hired gun does not mean you are not hired to kill a member of the clan. You would not be the first assassin sent to kill me, and surely would not be the last. Why should I tell you anything?”

Now McCree laughed, giving him an exasperated look. “If I were an assassin I would already know who you were, sweetheart. We wouldn't be havin’ this conversation, we’d be fighting to the death. Why would I put my gun down if I wanted you dead?”  
A moments pause, just a beat, before the hintings of a smile teased the corners of the man’s lips, and Jesse was suddenly struck by how handsome the man before him was, hidden beneath his warriors veil. “Perhaps you are a very poor assassin,” he offered, and Jesse laughed again in spite of himself. 

“Could be I suppose,” he conceded. “But that ain't the case. I'm just a man on a mission tryin’ to make ends meet.”  
The other man paused a moment, thinking hard before finally he spoke again. “Tell me yours, I'll tell you mine.”  
The silence in the air was heavy, until finally he responded. “McCree. Jesse McCree.” He smiled slightly, nodding his head where he would tip his hat were his hands not raised. “It's a Pleasure.”  
The light was low and the room dark, but even then McCree could see the way the man’s eyes widened in surprise. His mouth fell open slightly, closed, opened again, trying and failing to find words. When he spoke again, there was an urgency in his tone. “Have you been to Shimada castle before, Mister McCree?”

Jesse’s stomach tied into a knot instantly, feeling cornered, as though he'd walked right into a trap. He should have used that alias Gabe had given him, who knows what the relationship between the Shimadas and Deadlocks was like in the middle of the crisis. They could be in a war for all he knew, and her he was saying his name? But it was too late to back pedal, so he simply nodded.  
“Ah, yeah. When I was quite a bit younger and still ran with my old crowd,” he nodded towards the tattoo. “But like I said I don't run with them anymore, so so don't know what the relationship between y’all is but I-”  
His words were cut short as the sword slowly withdrew, pressure on his throat gone in an instant. His eyes widened in surprise as he looked up at the man, their eyes burning on the other. He tried to get a read on the man but found only sadness on his face where the rage had been but moments before. Slowly, Jesse rose from his crouch, hands lowering to his side as he stood level with the other. The world stopped, sounds of battle in the distance fading to silence, and for a second it was just the two of them in the dark corridor as the man spoke in a low voice.

“We have met once before, Jesse McCree,” he muttered, voice gravelly and tired, like he was carrying the weight of the world. “When I was much younger. A different man. But I remember you, looking out over Hanamura like it was the most wonderful city in the world.”

Jesse remembered in an instant. That trip with the Deadlocks to Hanamura, exploring the castle, the perfect stranger that had shifted what beauty meant to a young McCree. He'd thought about him non stop for months, dreamed of him, fantasizes a life of what could have been. But he had known at the end of the days that that was all it was; a fantasy. And here he was, so many years later. His face was different, the same proud features now painted in pain, eyes tired beyond their years. His jaw was dusted in hair, the beginnings of a beard not unlike Jesse’s, and his long hair was pulled tight on top his head. In the sleeveless shirt he wore, Jesse could fully see the muscular bulk of his chest and arms, as well as the intricate crest of a tattoo snaking down one arm, and a bandage on his upper shoulder on the other. It had been years since McCree had seen him and yet there he was, a reflection of the young man he had seen so many years ago, the same but completely different. 

“Hanzo…” Jesse muttered under his breath, and his heart stuttered as a smile crossed the other’s lips once more. 

“You remember,” he replied softly, tone almost relieved.  
“Remember? How could I forget,” McCree laughed in spite of himself. “Bout stole my breath away.”  
Hanzo rolled his eyes, chuckling all the same. “I do not know about that.” 

Before Jesse could reply, his com crackled to life, exploding in his ear. “MCCREE, I don't know what the fuck you think you're doing, but you need to get out of there NOW. Omnics are closing in on your position, and if you don't hurry up and grab the target soon, we’re gonna have to leave without you.” Gabe's rough voice snapped through the line.  
Hanzo narrowed his eyes, opening his mouth to speak when a massive roar shook the ground. Suddenly, a huge omnic came crashing through the paper walls just behind Hanzo, ripping through wood beams as it tore its way further into the castle. The building gave a tremendous screech as the wood splintered and gave, crumbling as the giant metal hands tore through it and the omnic tumbled through, charging on. Hanzo spun around, eyes wide and weapon drawn, frantically taking in the damage. 

“Jesse let’s go,” Gabe pressed in his ear. But McCree was frozen for a moment, staring at Hanzo as he struggled to figure out what to do. He was different than he had been, the old Hanzo dead and gone to this new, more broken version. But looking at him still made Jesse’s heart ache. When Hanzo turned and stared back at him, he spoke without thinking.  
“Hanzo, Come with me-”  
“Jesse McCree we are leaving in four minutes with or without you,” came a final warning through his com.  
Hanzo’s eyes widened in surprise, and for a moment time stopped again. Jesse saw pain in his eyes, the want to drop everything here and go literally anywhere else that had lived in his own heart all his life. They were perfect there, just the two of them trapped in forever, with their fates in their hands. For a moment, he thought he would say yes.  
But then the moment was gone, and Hanzo turned away. “Go,” he said, voice hoarse and just above a whisper.  
Jesse started to protest. “Now come on Hanzo, I know it’s sudden but-”  
“No. You need to leave. You are lucky I am the one who found you. Now get out of here before I change my mind.”  
“Hanzo-”  
“GO!” He yelled, turning and looking over his shoulder with anger and pain painted across his face. A beat passed, the two’s eyes locked in each other. And then they turned, Hanzo towards the hole the omnic had left, Jesse towards the stairs to the hospital wing, and they were off.

Jesse didn't register running up the stairs, nor bursting through doors, fanning the hammer into the armed guards, the way their bodies hit the ground. He didn't register the surroundings, only seeing the body wrapped up in crisp white sheets, scooping it up in his arms and throwing it over his shoulder as he burst through the doors once more. He could hear nothing over the ringing in his ears and the pounding of his heart, blood pumping as he made his way up the tower to the rendezvous point. The shuttle was waiting for him, hovering silently with the door open, and he barreled through it. He didn't register that someone took the body from him, nor the pat on the back, and didn't remember sitting down.  
It was only when he looked out the window and watched as Shimada castle slipped out of view was he suddenly hit by the pain in his heart, and the intense longing that rocked him to his core as he left Hanzo behind once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a lot more serious, and what I kind of like to imagine happened in a lot of ways. I wanted to really paint the picture of what Hanzo was feeling after his battle with Genji, and how he became so destroyed by his actions he left the clan. In addition, though it isn't likely, I like to think that killing Genji is how Hanzo unlocked his dragon abilities, and that McCree was sent in to pick up Genji from the Shimada castle given that in the 'Uprising' comic, it shows that Blackwatch is in trouble with the government of Hanamura. But who knows really.
> 
> Thanks so much for reading y'all, it really means the world to me. Hope you enjoyed!  
> -Samatura
> 
> http://sake-and-whiskey.tumblr.com/  
> http://samatura.tumblr.com/


	3. Rebirth

The saloon was sweltering, baking as the high noon sun beat into the faded wood of thewalls. Those within it sought to fight off the heat with a different kind of burn, cool alcohol chasing away the discomfort of the hot summer sun. The air was thick with smoke, heavy with the sounds of dark whispers and twanging piano. A variety of figures were perched in their usual spots, familiar faces in the small town. 

But today a new face joined the mix, covered by a dark hood as he strode inside. A few turned, casting sidelong glasses at the stranger as he made his way through the sea of tables before he saddled up to the only empty seat at the bar. He didn't blend in, that was for sure. Not with the large carrying case on his back, the pooling dark hood, or the hard steps of his metal soles on the hardwood floor.

But that wasn't uncommon for Gibraltar these days; it had never been uncommon after the Overwatch base was built in the cliffside, strange new faces always coming and going. It had been good for business, and even though the bar was a good ways out from the base itself, soldiers had always come through. Not as much anymore, but they'd had a few strange faces pass through lately, and the locals who'd been around a while could guess what that meant.

Hanzo paid the curious eyes no mind, gesturing to the Omnic bartender who gave him a nod in response, finishing up with a regular before coming his way.

“What can I do you for?” The man asked, voice garbled through a broken modulator.   
“Something strong,” Hanzo replied, shucking off his hood to relieve some of the oppressive heat. “Whatever is best.”

“Go ahead and make it two bourbons then, Tone. Put it on my tab,” a new voice chimed in from Hanzo’s right, low and deep with a slight draw.  
He really had been trying to lay low and not talk to anyone until he got closer to the Overwatch base, but that was still miles away and in his years Hanzo had learned not to turn down a free drink. So he simply nodded his consent to the bartender, who went about preparing the drinks, and turned to the man on his right. 

Hanzo tried not to be too judgemental of others these days, given he himself was on a quest for redemption, but the man seated beside him was almost too much. A cowboy hat sunk low on his head, and he had what looked like a red poncho wrapped around his shoulders. In one hand he held an empty glass, the other a smoldering cigar, and it was then Hanzo noticed that one arm was metal, a cheap chop shop job with a skull. 

When he made eye contact with the man, he almost smiled. He looked like a character from a movie, beard wild and unkempt, hair shaggy, skin dark and eyes tired. Handsome, in a scruffy kind of way. The man looked as though he'd walked straight out of a spaghetti western. But he wasn't bad to look at, so Hanzo offered a smile.

The man grinned, lifting his metal hand to tip his hat. “Howdy,” he said, warm and rolling.  
Hanzo nearly let out a bark of laughter, but he held it in, smile growing slightly as he offered up a firm, “Hello.”  
“Reckon I ain't seen you in these part before,” the stranger began, before the bartender returned with their drinks and placed the glasses before them. “Ah, you're a peach, Tone. But like I was sayin’, I think I'd remember a pretty face like yours”  
He replace his empty glass with a new one before sliding the other over to Hanzo, who accepted it graciously with a smirk on his face.

“So what brings ya round Gibraltar, sweetheart? Business or pleasure?” The man asked, taking a drink.  
“Business,” Hanzo answered, taking a sip of his own. The alcohol burned going down but was good, chasing away the dryness of his throat. “Though I find there is always time for pleasure,” he said smoothly.  
The man laughed and raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Is that right? Well I know a thing or two about that.”  
“I bet you do,” Hanzo smiled, turning to face the wall of amber bottles behind the bar. 

Out of the corner of his eye he could see the stranger smiling, the two enjoying their drinks in comfortable silence. Hanzo listened to the twanging of the piano, enjoyed the taste of the liquor, the smell of the cowboy’s cigar. It all helped quell the nervousness that was gnawing away at his stomach, the trepidation that he could feel in his core. He had come to Gibraltar for business and nothing more, but this little pleasure was a welcome release. Anything to take his mind off what had happened months ago.  
He ran his thumb over the side of his head, the buzzed skin soothing as he thought back on his encounter with Genji. The strange green cyborg who had appeared on his day of mourning, the man who had been able to wield a dragon, his brother risen from the dead. ‘The world is changing once again, Hanzo. And it is time to pick a side.’

So he had. Months later, a new year and a new haircut later, and he was ready to start again at a fresh life. To join Overwatch. And here he was, so close and yet so far. Was he ready? He did not know. But the liquor helped calm his burning nerves for a moment, and for that, he was grateful.

“Lemme get another round over here,” the cowboy called to the bartender, shaking him from his reflections. Hanzo turned to him, piqued.   
“You do not have to do that you know,” he said warily.  
“Nah, I want to,” the man insisted, waving him off. “I can tell another tired soul when I see one. Least I could do to be civil.”  
It was a charming sentiment, and though a part of him was suspicious, he put it to rest. The Omnic brought their drinks around, but stopped a moment in front of the cowboy. “You gonna be payin now, yeah?”  
Hanzo shot the stranger a look, eyebrow raised. “Aw c’mon now Tone, you think I’m gonna skip out on ya?” He shot back, voice in mock surprise.

“No, I don't. But you have a habit of leaving long standing tabs, and I ain't dealing with that again. So you pay now.” The Omnic said gruffly, folding his arms over his burly chest.   
The cowboy gave a huff, grumbling under his breath as he fished through his pockets before dropping a few crumpled bills on the counter. “Fine, fine, here.”  
With a quick test of the money in the light, the bartender relented, heading towards the register. “Don't take that tone with me, McCree.”  
“Well don't take that tone with me, Tone,” he grumbled back, turning to face Hanzo with a sheepish grin. “Sorry ‘bout that.”  
But Hanzo was staring at him, eyes wide and brows furrowed. His mouth opened, closed, opened again, but no words would come out. He took in the stranger once again, taking in every detail this time. Strong face, poncho, dark eyes, wicked smile. Tattoo? No, where his tattoo would have been there was mechanical arm, so that could go either way. Still, the likelihood was slim to none… so he would play it cool, learn more. 

“McCree?” He asked, casually taking another drink.   
The cowboy laughed. “Ah yeah, that's my name. Sorry, bad manners on my part, but I'm not big on sharin’. Man like you’d understand that, yeah?”   
Hanzo nodded, glancing about the bar. He definitely did. “A fitting name for a cowboy.”   
McCree rolled his eyebrows, grinning. “Sounds like you like it.”  
“I don't believe I said that,” Hanzo mused, smiling behind the lip of his glass.  
“But that's not a no,” he pressed, and finally Hanzo broke, chuckling openingly. McCree’s smile grew, and he leaned closer. “Mighty fine smile you got. We both seem to be here on business, but I wouldn't mind making time for some pleasure with you.” He said low, winking to close the deal.

Hanzo scoffed, shooting him a look. “And what business would that be?” He asked, rolling over the innuendo with ease.   
With a shrug that read ‘worth a shot,’ McCree grabbed his glass. “My business is a little ways from here, little more south, on the coast. Meetin’ up with some people for a job.”

Hanzo’s heart skipped a beat. 

“What about you, stranger?” McCree asked, taking a long drink.  
He paused for a moment, collecting his thoughts as he took a drink of his own before responding, “I suppose you could say I am here for a similar mission.”  
McCree stopped, glass perched on his lips. He eyed Hanzo warily, thinking a moment before setting his glass down, feigning casual. “What’d you say your name was, stranger?”  
“I didn't,” Hanzo said simply. He took a breath, turning to look at McCree. “Tell me yours, I’ll tell you mind.”   
Saying those words brought him back years, back to the hallway in the dark, back to Hanamura. The alarms that woke him from his fitful sleep, the omnics invading the castle. Uncurling himself and wiping away his dried tears to grab his sword, running through the castle to defend the clan.

And then he'd been there. 

Young, strong, stumbling intro Hanzo’s life for the second time. Completely out of place, a caricature of the west, cocky and guns blazing. Handsome, rough, street smart. A soldier, a man of free spirits chasing freedom. Everything Hanzo was never allowed to be, everything he wanted, topped off in a cowboy hat.

Across from him, McCree smiled. “Well, ‘spose I can’t say no to that now can I? The names McCree, Jesse McCree.” And again, he gave a tip of his hat, flourished. “How ‘bout you, stranger?”   
Hanzo’s breath caught in his throat. There it was. It couldn’t be coincidence then, this really was him. How many Jesse McCree’s could there be? He steeled himself, taking a drink, and speaking before his better judgement could tell him otherwise. 

“Hanzo,” he said, turning to look McCree in the eyes, judging his reaction. Jesse’s face screwed up in surprise, but quickly melted into the same easy smile, no doubt a well practiced expression.   
“Well, that’s a mighty fine name,” He said warmly, lifting his glass. “I’ve only ever met one-”

 

“Hanzo Shimada,” he finished, voice low. McCree stopped short, smile fading and eyes narrowing. The two sat there for a moment, sizing each other up, evaluating, the eyes of two hunters seeking out the other. Whatever Jesse was feeling, Hanzo couldn’t read it from his features, a perfect poker face. It was like it was just them, the world stopping on a dime. Did it do this every time they met? It seemed so, because three for three times now Hanzo felt the cowboy take his breath away and fill him with emotions he had thought dead within himself long ago. 

After a pause, Jesse lifted his cigar to his lips and took a long drag, holding the smoke in his lungs for a moment before letting it slowly float from between his lips. “Well now,” He began, words measured, giving Hanzo a sidelong glance. “Guess we ain’t really strangers then, are we?”   
Hanzo’s lips curved into a smirk, and he shrugged, “I suppose we are not.” 

McCree scoffed, shaking his head and taking another puff of his smoke. “I don’t really know what you would call us given the, uh, circumstances of our meetings. Lord, it’s been a long time huh?”  
“Just under twenty years, I would say,” Hanzo nodded, finishing his drink slowly. “And I think calling us acquaintances would be a reasonable assessment.”   
“Guess that’s fair,” McCree conceded, finishing his drink. He paused a moment before glancing back at Hanzo. “You cleaned up nice, that’s for sure.”   
Hanzo had to hold back a laugh, raising an eyebrow. “Is that so?”

 

“Reckon it is,” Jesse smirked back, and Hanzo felt a spark shoot up his spine.   
“Well I don’t know if I could say you cleaned up, given the amount of dirt on your person, but you are not half bad yourself,” he said slyly, flashing a smile.   
“Wow, hurtful, a shot through the heart,” McCree feigned, covering his heart with his hand, as if struck. “You wound me, truly.”   
Hanzo laughed in spite of himself, shaking his head. “If it were that easy to kill you, I have no doubt you would have been dead long ago.”   
Now it was Jesse’s turn to laugh, shooting him a wicked grin. “You’re damn right.”

The conversation carried easy, banter flowing like the liquor the bartender kept filled in their glasses. Topics shifted, never too much on the past, instead on easy and simple things. Taste in booze, a debate between sake and whiskey, the finer points of alcohol as well as smoking. At some point Hanzo produced a cigarette, and the two smoked as much as they drank. The high noon sun drifted towards land as the hours passed, a pleasant buzz carrying the conversation on. Casual flirting seamlessly mixed with warm conversation as McCree laid the charm on heavy, and Hanzo was never one to be out done. 

It was comfortable, Hanzo thought contently as he laughed at some terrible joke McCree made. To anyone looking on, they appeared old friends, and in a way, were they not? Two star crossed wanderers thrown together twice, now three times, by the universe? A vagabond and a vigilante, on the run from their pasts finding a break from the world for a few hours? Perhaps it was the alcohol, but he was in no rush. He would take his time.   
Eventually the sun began to fall asleep, and the sky was painted pinks and oranges in the late afternoon. Jesse glanced out the window, and Hanzo knew woefully what he was about to say, though he tried to ignore it, instead focusing on how the long shadows cast across McCree’s face brought out the squareness of his jaw. Perhaps he did have too much to drink, he considered briefly, before shifting his attention back to Jesse. 

 

McCree gave a sigh as he turned back, a regretful look on his face accompanied by a weak smile. “Well sweetheart, I should probably be headin’ out soon. I gotta answer this recall from some old friends I used to work with, people to meet, the usual. That business I mentioned earlier and all that.”   
Hanzo nodded slowly, thoughts of Overwatch and his brother resurfacing. “I should as well. I need to be heading South for business of my own.”   
Jesse’s face brightened, “Well now, I’m goin’ south too, to the coast. So maybe, if you wanted that is, we could make part of the trip together ‘til we had to split up.” 

A warmth spread through his chest, and Hanzo nodded quickly. “I think I would like that very much.”   
McCree grinned, fishing some bills from his pockets and laying them on the counter before rising to his feet. He held out his gloved hand, and Hanzo took it with a smile, warmed by the alcohol, among other things. He rose to his feet, adjusting the strap to his bow case on his back, and followed behind the cowboy. McCree gave a wave to the bartender and Hanzo joined him, and the omnic gave them a nod before returning to his work. Jesse held the door open, giving a flourishing bow, and Hanzo snorted as he walked out. 

The spanish heat was warm, but not as relentless as it had been midday, and the air was sweet with the smell of smoke and cooking meat from the street vendors that lined the roads. The locals went about their business as they always would, and for the first time in a while, Hanzo didn’t feel estranged among them. He was just another face on the road, and for the first time in years, he wasn’t alone.   
McCree fell in beside him with a smile, lighting up another cigar and giving Hanzo a warm smile. “So south, yeah?” He asked, taking a drag. “I was gonna hoof it a few miles til we hit the open road and then maybe catch a ride on the back of a cargo freighter until I got to the coast, sound like a plan?” 

Hanzo watched the smile trail from Jesse’s lips as he spoke, filtering up to the warm mid afternoon sky, and nodded. “Yes, that works for me. That will give us plenty of time to continue where we left off.”   
Jesse laughed, shaking his head as they made their way down the road. “Listen, I wasn’t tryin’ to insult your taste. That sake’s not half bad, but I prefer a little bite to my liquor.”   
“How predictable,” Hanzo rolled his eyes, though there was mirth behind his words. “Such an unsophisticated taste.” 

McCree started to protest, but Hanzo only laughed, and the two continued on. Their conversation lasted well into the night, even as the sun faded away and the stars sprinkled into the sky. Time didn’t matter as the two wandered, whether it was filled with talking, smoking, or trading drinks from Hanzo’s flask. It was comfortable, two kindred spirits on a journey to the same destination, even if they themselves were unaware. Whether it was luck, a divine hand, or simply fate that had brought them together, they were together. Two men on a path to redemption, pasts gone to ashes and rising together towards a rebirth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the end! A warm ending to a story with ups and downs. I hope you all enjoyed it! I feel bad it didn't all get to go into zine, but now I get to share it with you all! 
> 
> As always I love feedback, so feel free to leave a comment here or on one of my blogs!  
> Thanks so much for reading y'all, it really means the world to me. Hope you enjoyed!  
> -Samatura
> 
> http://sake-and-whiskey.tumblr.com/  
> http://samatura.tumblr.com/

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for all of those who bought the Bullseye Zine! It was so fun to work on, and my very first time being involved in such a project. I absolutely loved writing this story, so I hope you love it to!


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